Potato Chips
by aptasi
Summary: In the wake of devastating betrayal, someone needs to take charge and make the difficult choices. Junk food takes the edge off.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: In the wake of devastating betrayal, someone must take charge and make the difficult decisions. Junk food takes the edge off.

Disclaimer: I'm just a fanfiction writer. All hail the rightful owners.

Content Warning: A few violent references and some cussing.

* * *

I fix the unfixable. That is my job.

If you're about to tell me I don't look the part, I've noticed. With thirty one years on this beat, believe me, I've figured out that I look like a sweet old lady. Don't you worry, honey. I'm not your nanna.

It's a shame I don't fit the stereotype better. Power and affluence so often coincide that it can be difficult to separate the concepts. It can be a true disappointment to find out that the person behind the prestige resembles a senior citizen. You expected champagne and sunglasses, perhaps? Shame. You're getting a woman with a walker, like it or not. They put up with it because no one else can do what I do.

If you expected me to be a coddled figurehead, guess again. All of that stereotypical luxury belies that I do my best work over stale potato chips and flat root beer. Today, my work looks even less glamorous than usual. This mess calls for a family sized bag of junk food.

These are a mongrel assembly, ill matched. Sullen glares and sunken shoulders are the only consistent feature. That doesn't surprise me. In my line of work, cheerful greetings are an anomaly. Perhaps their manner is a fitting tribute to the capricious teenager whose antics brought them together, jammed into an unused Acme conference room.

They're afraid of me. Well good. If it weren't for their incompetence I might be out working on oil barons and crack dealers. You know the kind, my usual bread and butter. Teenagers aren't my type. People get sentimental. Maybe if they hadn't been so damned soft about it, they wouldn't be sitting here wondering who I'm about to blame for this farce.

"What happened?" I demand.

No one responds. I take a sip from my root beer bottle. Drat, it's still bubbly. I hate fizz.

"A damn eighteen year-old girl has gone rogue and is somehow running circles around the entire United States government, and no one knows anything? You all are pathetic!" Fingers sporting a chipped manicure cut into my hips. I don't why I bother to paint the fool things. Lacquer always comes off.

Someone might have coughed. I pay close attention. These are the ones who knew her best. Concealing her motivations is practically their obligation.

"What was that?" I take a swig of the soda.

That old man, her ex-partner, says. "It is not… surprising, that you are finding Carmen… difficult."

I respond derisively. "Do you think so Mr. Suhara?"

Footwear is suddenly an incredibly interesting topic to the entire assembly. While they're thinking about it, I recap the bottle, shake the heck out of it, and then open it up again. I pull that off without spilling a drop, of course. It's easier than diffusing a bomb.

"Billions of dollars in government money to start." I rant, over the hiss of the carbonation. "Proficiency in every major martial arts system, top level security clearances in every branch of the military, eighteen different college level degrees, fluency in 30 languages, the best espionage training we or anyone else have, a pilot's license on several different classes of aircraft…"

"She's good…" A woman mutters sullenly.

"And it's thirty one languages…" That CGI head that they use as a reference book pipes up. "Carmen picked up Malayalam about a month ago."

"My apologies… thirty one languages." I answer, rather gracelessly. "And none of you wondered if you might be trusting her with too much?"

"Can't you … defeat her?" The mechanized image looks droopy. "Gently?"

"Let me assure you." I say coldly. "That if I were capable of defeating Ms. Sandiego in any capacity at all, we'd be having this discussion over her corpse." The woman is out of my depth, out of anyone's really. She's practically invincible and here I am scrounging for any scrap of information that might help control her. Right now she could decide she wants to make off with the sun, and it would probably even work. We are far beyond gentle. We need her dead, or failing that, appeased. I doubt it would do us any good to catch her as I can't think of a single prison that could hold her. Damn, I need some potato chips.

The computer-man shudders. I wonder what he would do if he realized that the reason for my visit is the failure of several elite teams of assassins to get within snipers range of his friend. Probably loose another body part. He's been holding together like a Mr. Potato head doll thus far. Come to think of it, he sort of looks like one too. Damn I still can't get potatoes out of my head.

"Did none of you see this coming?" I finally ask something calmly.

Everyone shakes their head. There has to be some warning sign, so I let them stew, to see what the come up with. Sure enough when the silence gets to them, people start guessing. I wish I'd brought something salty to have while I wait. That imbecile low-sodium diet will be the death of me. I'm eighty-four not a hundred and four, and I've got bigger problems than my blood pressure to contend with.

"Carmen was restless."

"Complained of boredom all the time…"

"Problems with authority…"

"Some of the books she was reading…"

"The way she talked…"

"Just not normal…"

I whisper. "You seem quiet Suhara." Silence from him disturbs me more than from the rest of them because he's the only one here to show any insight so far. I have to be careful about how much speculation I believe. Hindsight is clarity after all.

Wearily he says. "I thought she was happy."

Hopefully my sip of soda looks suitably casual. "So?"

"So you don't use Joseph Conrad to try and claim you knew this all along." He growls and then suddenly looks exhausted. "No one knew. So help us no one knew."

It is clear to me now that this man is the only one in this entire group who has a clue. So I decide he merits my full attention. I bend my back towards him and look gentle. I do a decent impression of sympathy when I concentrate. "Someone made Carmen very angry Suhara." I tell him softly, and if you heard my voice you could almost believe I cared about her. "I believe she was a good detective, and I believe she was kind to you. But something upset her so much that she decided she would rather be a criminal than stay where she was. What could do that?"

"I don't know." He finally answers.

I need some potato chips. I really need them. Why the hell didn't I bring any?

The CGI head looks at my strangely and I get the feeling he's onto something. Unfortunately for the rest of the world, it's not about the case. "Here." He says suddenly, and a bag of potato chips floats towards me.

A lesser woman might feel embarrassed or guilty, but I don't. I just grab them and keep going. "Let's get to the solution."


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: In the wake of devastating betrayal, someone must take charge and make the difficult decisions.

Disclaimer: I'm just a fanfiction writer. All hail the rightful owners.

* * *

"How dangerous is she?" That's the ultimate loaded question here. I wouldn't have been hired for this gig, without it. "People are afraid. They're scared because they wake up in the morning and great immovable objects vanish without a trace. They wonder if she would hurt them… are they right?"

Suhara admits. "Past their breaking point, anyone is dangerous. Carmen, because of her abilities, is more dangerous than most."

No kidding. "Would she kill?"

He hesitates. "I don't think so…"

"Yesterday…" I growl, remembering how I got into this mess. "Carmen as you call her left a present on my front porch. The FBI's top ten most wanted list, hogtied." It was my own damn fault for sending assassins after her and escalating this whole mess, but I need them to interpret the gesture for me. Right now I'm evenly divided between considering it a threat and an invitation. "With apples stuck in their mouths like they were Christmas pigs." She also included a bag of potato chips which I didn't eat but wanted to. That girl knows way too much.

That CGI head is never going to be able to find the bottom of his jaw if he doesn't learn to keep it attached. I take a big handful of the potato chips and eat them with minimal chewing. "Still think she's not violent?"

"They were alive?" The old man asks wearily.

Tersely, I nod. Then I take a swallow. That whole scenario frightened me more than I care to admit.

"If I didn't know better…" The computer finally said. "I'd think she was flirting with you."

Wonderful I finally get a reaction out of the rest of these goons and, viola, it's laughter. "Watch yourself!" If that woman makes a habit of this, I hate to think of her Christmas list.

"Well, did you want to capture those guys or not?" The computer says.

I glower.

"Just by way of demonstration..." Suhara says quietly. "Raise your hand if Carmen's ever closed a case or caught a target for you as a birthday or holiday present."

All but one of them put their hands up. I glance at the odd woman out.

"Wedding present." She clarifies sheepishly.

That just does it. "Don't you idiots see? She has us beaten! No one and nothing can stop her. And now all we need is for one of her heists to get out of control and blow up a city or…"

"Hey watch it! Carmen would be careful." That annoying animatronic head pipes up.

"You believed she would never steal!" I challenge. "So tell me how can there be anything you're sure she won't do!" I follow a handful of chips up with a gulp of not-so-carbonated heaven. The salt's hitting my system and starting to work. I can feel my mental faculties tightening up and I know I'm close to an answer, though I haven't a clue what.

"Things Carmen won't do." Suhara is furious now. "Easy! Use a biological weapon, burn a book, perpetrate genocide, commit rape, kill a child…"

"What was that last one?" The question leaves my mouth before I have time to analyze it. I know I've hit something when his mouth clamps shut. His hands tense under the table now. Suhara is most definitely nervous. "Suhara…" I croon. "Just a moment ago you told me you weren't sure whether she had the capacity to kill or not. Why should that be different with a child?"

"She worked a case…" Suhara finally ventures. "A while back… that leads me to believe she would not kill a child."

"Everyone loses it their first kid case…" Someone mutters. I find that an odd generalization, as I did not.

"How sure are you?" I ask softly. "Be very sure. She would not harm a child?"

He nods.

"How old?" I ask, and whispers start. No one understands what I'm getting at yet.

"It's not so much age…" he answers, "As innocence."

"So…" I prompt. Yes I can feel the sugar and salt high, and it's fantastic.

Suhara seems to have figured out I'm on to something because he clams right up. However, the rest of them are very helpful. "Teenager maybe."

Now it's time for my grand announcement. "Then children are what we'll send."

The stunned silence lasts a while, as they try to process my brilliance.

"What?" Someone finally gasps, and everyone breaks out into hysterical laughter. I let them get it out of their systems. They'll get over it soon enough. "You're crazy!"

"Ok…" Putting my hands on my hips, I get down to business. "Let me explain to you how this works. When you're up against a superior power, and believe me your girl is one, that leaves a very limited number of tactics. Option one, you can go guerilla and take cheap shots. Well we tried that and it failed. Carmen's stacked this so that she chooses the turf and she's brushing off top level assassin teams like they're flies."

Chief makes a shocked sound but I ignore it.

"All that did was make her angry. Option two, you can throw everything you've got at them and hope that sheer dedication and luck makes a dent. That method is halfway to suicidal. Heroic charges only work in the movies. Option three," I pause. "You find a way to make the body count unacceptable to them."

"B-body count?" There those animated eyes go again, popping out of his head. "You can't do that!"

"Why not? You said yourself she won't hurt them?" I retort. "And how is that different from what you all did to her? She was twelve, as I recall, the first time you sent her after a murderer. "

"That's… not the same!" Someone exclaims.

"If Carmen is some kind of" I hunt around for a phrase, "crook with a conscience, then that is a weakness. Her _only_ weakness. We deescalate her or we pay the price. If it takes putting children in her path to keep her on the right side of homicidal than we're doing it. This way we can appear to be doing something without just fighting back and making the heists more damn appealing. So unless someone has a better plan, that's what we're doing. Every detective on her case from now on will have to be under eighteen."

Suhara stands up slowly and looks at me, for a lot longer than he should have really. I wait.

"You know I have the authority to do this." I tell him.

"I resign." He finally says with quiet dignity.

"I understand." I say, and to my shock I'm telling the truth. "Good luck, sir."

They all look stunned.

"Meeting adjourned." I announce.

THE END


End file.
